


Don't Leave

by Desparado



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23300833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desparado/pseuds/Desparado
Summary: You go on a solo hunt which ends in various wounds and an argument with Geralt. Jaskier tries to use his skills to help you both make up, but will it work?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Kudos: 63





	Don't Leave

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Swearing; canon typical violence (briefly described); fluffy ending

“Fuuuuuck.” You hissed as you peeked under your armour to reveal some of the wounds. You were stood by the horses as Jaskier had gone to the inn to check for rooms. Geralt had taken himself to the tavern after an argument you two had about your recent hunt. Glancing over the visible injuries, memories flashed of how you received each one. You had been hunting for a striga and, with help from Jaskier and the village gossip, discovered the creature had once been a dying maiden who cursed herself in order to one day kill the covetous neighbour who had attacked her for turning him down. Rummaging through the ruins of a barn house uncovered a half-burnt letter, revealing that the curse was so no man could kill her during the reign of terror on those who wronged her. Realising the depth of the words, you concluded that only you could fight her to end the curse and allow the woman a peaceful transition to the afterlife. Geralt was reluctant to let you go, but you begged for the chance to prove yourself. The battle was long and gruelling, but eventually you returned to the village victorious, albeit covered in cuts and bruises.  
Your attention was drawn back to the real world as Jaskier walked over to you, “So they have 3 rooms left, one with a bath which I assumed you would want.” He took your bag off your horse and looked around for Geralt. “Where’d he go?”  
“To drown his sorrows.” You sighed as you went to take your bag from the bard, he moved his arm out of the way, “Jaskier I can carry my own damn bag.”  
“I know but I want to help you, y/n.” He replied with a gentle smile, “So I guess proving yourself to win his affections didn’t work?”  
“Jask my dear, it’s not even worth joking about.” You said, a tinge of annoyance in your voice. He held you by the waist for support as you both walked to the inn, “Do you want me to help you clean up?”  
“Thanks but apparently ‘If I want to hunt on my own and die on my own then maybe I should be on my own’.” You uttered using your best low gruff. 

The innkeeper took you up to a medium sized room with the bath in the corner angled towards the door, giving you a ‘special price for your heroic efforts’. You asked her to fill it as you checked your bag for potions and bandages. Taking off your armour was difficult- your muscles cried out with each movement. When finally free of your clothes, the innkeeper finished your bath and kindly offered to clean them, which you accepted. You used your healing potions and got to work on the worst looking injuries, pouring the liquid into the cut, wincing with every sting it caused. Images flashed again, mostly of your fight with the striga- being thrown against a wall, her clawing at your side as you stabbed the beast with your silver knife. Then of the cry she made when you delivered the final blow as the sun peaked through the tomb door, a mixture of defeat and liberation.  
Shaking off the images, you climbed into the steaming bath and braced the sides as the hot water covered your cuts and grazes. Pain and relief washed over you as you leant back and allowed yourself to relax. 

Jaskier watched you hobble up the stairs with the innkeeper then made a beeline for the tavern. He refused to stand by anymore when it came to you and Geralt. As he opened the door, he quickly found the man he was looking for brooding in the corner, downing an ale and placing the empty flask next to another one. Jaskier sighed before making his way over and sitting opposite him. Geralt didn’t so much as look at him, picking up the other flask drinking from it. “So I guess you didn’t confess your feelings to y/n when she got back then?” The bard tried to sound chirpy as he spoke, but his underlying frustration sharpened the words. Geralt stayed silent, only moving when he lifted the flask to his lips. Jaskier drummed his fingers on the table, “Of course not, no you decided to tell her to fuck off instead-”  
“That’s not what I said.” Geralt responded.  
“She told me what you said, Geralt. You told her to ‘be on her own’- all because she went on a solo hunt? Do you understand how hypocritical that makes you?” Geralt didn’t answer, but he had stopped drinking so Jaskier continued, “Y/n was so glad when this hunt came up- all she has wanted to do is prove to you that she was useful and that she was worthy of riding alongside you.”  
“Riding with me isn’t safe; she doesn’t deserve to be stuck with me.” Geralt muttered, slowly turning the flask in his hands. Jaskier grabbed the flask and moved it away from him, receiving a deathly glare. “You’re right,” Jask began, finishing the last of the ale in the flask as Geralt sighed in irritation, “She deserves better than being stuck with someone who treats her like a disobedient pony. Right now she thinks you don’t care about her so if you don’t go and tell her otherwise, she will leave. Do you really want that?” Geralt’s eyes flickered up to Jaskier’s searching for signs of deception. Getting nothing but concerned truthfulness, he cursed himself and left Jaskier some coins as he made his way out of the tavern and towards the inn.

The heat from the water was heavenly your muscles, the lavender oil helping you unwind and feel much calmer. After a while, there was a knock at the door. Quiet but firm. You ignored it and carried on dozing. Then it came again. Staying silent, you prayed the person would leave you in peace. They didn’t. Another knock. “Fuck off!” You shouted, gasping as the sudden tension pressed into freshly formed bruises. It was finally silent, but you didn’t hear anyone walking away. Then the door handle slowly turned. You cursed yourself for not locking it. As the door opened, you reached for your knife and held it ready. A voice came from behind the door and you released your breath. “Y/n?” Geralt called out. You didn’t know if you were relieved or annoyed. “What?” You replied.  
“Can I come in?” His question was almost hesitant, he’d never done that before.  
“Oh come to insult me some more, have you? Was telling me to go not enough?” The irritation in your voice clear. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating what to say, “I... I want to talk.” He responded, almost too low for you to hear. Unable to turn him away, you put your knife back and gave him permission to enter. As he did so, he looked over to where he heard your voice and was almost startled to see you in the bath, “Sorry I- I can wait if you prefer-“ he already started retreating out the door.  
“No- you can say what you need to now.” You snapped. He slowly walked over and then sat down on the stool next to you, facing the other way. “No no Geralt- if you want to speak to me then you have to LOOK at me.” You heard him sigh then turn around to face you. He noted your serious expression then looked at the floor, “I have come to apologise for my actions earlier. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that; it was… rude and unfair.”  
“Hmm.” You responded, eager to play him at his own game, “And?” He looked up at you in confusion. “Well you said you came to apologise but you haven’t actually done it.” You stated bluntly. Geralt shuffled position on the stool, playing with his hands and then looked in your eyes,  
“I’m sorry, y/n. I completely take back what I said earlier, it was wrong of me.” You allowed yourself to smile slightly as a sign to Geralt his apology was accepted, “Yes well you were being a hypocritical arsehole!” You chuckled as you spoke, but pain soon hit the side of your stomach where your deep cut was and Geralt had noticed. His face instantly darkened and his hands clenched the side of the bath. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I was foolish to leave you there without backup.” He mumbled as he looked away from you. You tilted your head and exhaled through your nose, “Geralt, I had to go alone. You couldn’t have stopped the striga, it would have killed you, that’s why I-“  
“But it nearly killed you.” He interjected as he looked into your eyes. The amber in his were glossier than normal. “I didn’t prepare you properly for that fight and you scarcely managed to walk away- I can tell that you’ve been in agony ever since you left that tomb. I should have done more to protect you, to keep you safe.” Hearing him say these words was a strange experience. In all of your time with Geralt and Jaskier you had never seen him look so… hurt. Remorseful. Like the pain you felt was somehow caused by him and he was punishing himself for it. Slowly pulling yourself upright, you leant on the edge of the bathtub close to him. He looked down at you and noticed a long scratch on your arm from your shoulder to your elbow. The regret in his eyes confirmed your suspicions. “So that’s what it is- you think my injuries are your fault because you weren’t there?” His eyes flicked to yours, back to your arm and then at the wall. There was something else. “I don’t understand. I’ve been in dangerous situations before where I could have died whilst you were there; you never reacted like this- why is it worse this time?” He didn’t answer you, he just carried on staring at the wall. “Geralt, for fuck sake why was this time so different-“  
“Because I wouldn’t have known!” He shouted in reply, the loudness surprised you. You stayed quiet, watching his chest rise and fall deeply as he considered his words, “Because… you could have been killed or laid there dying, calling out for me and I wouldn’t have been there to help. I would have found out too late.” Geralt whispered the last part, almost in fear of the world knowing. You smiled gently at him as an idea entered your head, “You were afraid because I was on my own with only a sword and a few potions to help me?” He nodded at your statement, so you continued, “All while you stood at the village entrance, willing to see me appear from the trees as the emerging sunrise taunted you?” He looked at you, his eyebrows knitted together, “That’s oddly specific but yes.” He replied. You smiled at this.  
“Hmm,” you began, he watched you as you moved position again to get more comfortable and placed your hand on his, “It’s weird, because I was doing the exact same thing not long ago; when you ventured up a mountain to kill a howler and I was stuck at the edge of a farm standing guard in case you failed.” You examined Geralt as you spoke, the realisation beginning to dawn on him, “Oh and strangely enough, I was doing it again shortly after that when a kikimore had taken over a swamp and you wouldn’t let anyone go into the forest after it except yourself. Jask and I sat by that forest edge all night and through to midday, refusing to sleep until you came back.” Geralt considered your words carefully,  
“I see.” He replied.  
“It hurts, doesn’t it? Feeling helpless?” You probed. He nodded very slightly and then looked at you,  
“Is that how you feel when I hunt on my own?”  
“Every. Single. Time.” You smiled as you spoke, trying to ignore the memories of pacing rooms and being full of fear when he was gone all night. Geralt ungripped the bathtub and flexed his fingers, “You did always seem nauseatingly clingy when I came back.” He could barely keep a straight face as he spoke, you gasped and then hit his arm playfully. But the movement was too much for you and you slipped in the bath, causing more pain. Geralt reached out and held you, helping you sit upright again. You tried to convince him you were fine, but he wasn’t believing it. “Here,” He began as he reached for a cloth, “As a way to apologise for my words earlier, let me help you.” It was safe to say you were shocked by the offer, a heat rising in your cheeks. “Are you sure you want to do that?” You asked, your heart thumping a little too loud.  
“Only if you’re okay with it?” He replied. You nodded at his offer and let him wash the dried blood off your arms and back, taking care around your injuries. He also helped wash your hair, delicately rubbing soap into it and gently massaging your scalp. Secretly or not- you were loving the attention. It was nice being looked after, having someone else take care of you. But more specifically, it was nice being looked after by Geralt. Every so often you ‘hmmed’ in appreciation, but otherwise the experience played out in silence. 

Once clean, Geralt held his arms out and closed his eyes, allowing you to get out of the bath with help. “No peaking!” You teased as you took the towels from him and wrapped them around yourself, checking your wounds for fresh bleeding. You dried yourself then took out a nightshirt from your bag and tried to put it on but struggled due to your injuries. “Erm, Geralt?" You called.  
“Yes?” He turned his head to you but kept his eyes closed.  
“I need your help, and you’ll need to open your eyes for it.” He followed your instructions and looked at you, wearing nothing but towels. You were convinced you saw him swallow hard. “I can’t get this shirt on because of my shoulder, I need you to put it over my head and help me get my arms in.” He nodded and walked over to you, taking the shirt from you. Then he did as you asked- putting the shirt over your head and then helped you with the arms of the shirt. You hissed from the pain with your bad arm, but you did it. Thanking him, you gave him a big smile and then hung the damp towels over the bath. Geralt just stood and stared at you the whole time- like you were made of constellations. “What?” You asked, his intense stare causing a chill up your spine. He slowly walked over to you, standing only a breath away, “Don’t leave.” He whispered, before leaning in to press his lips against yours. It was gentle and slight, he hovered a hand over your cheek before letting it touch, afraid to add more bruises. After you had gotten over the initial shock, you leaned into him and placed one hand on his chest and one under his chin- inviting him closer. The delicate kisses were like healing sparks, filling your body with warmth and a sense of calm.  
Eventually, you pulled away, smiling as you pressed your forehead against Geralt’s, breathing him in. You were getting tired and he could tell. “I’ll let you to sleep now, y/n.” He said, sighing deeply before pulling his head away from yours. You smiled and nodded, then he placed a longing kiss on the top of your head and made his way to your door. Something overtook you and you grabbed his hand before he reached it. He looked down at your hand then up at you. “Will you stay?” You asked as politely as you could, “You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate the company.”  
“Of course.” He replied, letting you pull him to the bed. You got under sheets as he took off his boots and shirt, then he climbed in next to you.  
You slept back to back, but the feeling of his skin pressed against you, his deep rhythmic breathing and the memory of his lips on yours, lulled you into the most blissful sleep you’d had in years.


End file.
